


Desert Interlude

by CopperBeech



Category: Desert Peach, Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Afrika Korps, Discussion of Homosexuality, Don't copy to another site, Donna Barr, Eighth Army, Espionage, Gen, Relationship Advice, Spying, Tea, Tunisia, Wehrmacht, World War II, fraternisation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 03:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperBeech/pseuds/CopperBeech
Summary: In Tunisia in 1942, a somewhat inept British spy (?) meets an unconventional Wehrmacht colonel. They understand one another better than either might have expected.The Colonel reached into his breast pocket and opened a small locket on an old-gold chain, containing a vignette photograph of a ruggedly handsome, dark-haired man in Luftwaffe uniform, with a devilish smile and the premature crow’s-feet of someone who spends his days looking into unfiltered sun.“My Rosen – Leutnant Kavalier. A bomber pilot, very dashing – though a bit of a reckless boy with no manners or graces. But we cannot rule where our hearts are given, can we?”The Colonel carefully replaced the locket in his impossibly crisp uniform shirt, twitching aside a scarf of almost transparent peach-colored silk to do so.“I understand,” said Fell. “I’m – quite fond myself of someone like that – though I can’t think entirely what to do about it. It’s very difficult, with our being on – opposite sides, you see.””





	Desert Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I've loved Donna Barr's _Desert Peach_ for over twenty years, and had the honor of helping preserve the score of the musical show. And yet it was only after writing a dozen-plus Good Omens fanfics that I realized how well Mr. A. Z. Fell (as he would have been known during his undercover work in the War) and Colonel Pfirsich Rommel would have gotten on. A brief encounter between two kindred souls on opposite sides of a conflict.

“Udo, lieber? Some tea for our guest – Herr Fell, is it? Will you take some tea?”

“Thank you, Colonel. That would be very kind.”

Schmidt sloped off to boil water. It was just like the Herr Oberst; the man was obviously a British spy, caught nosing around the camp ridiculously overdressed in a beige civilian suit that might have passed for military uniform at a distance but which, up close, made him look more or less like an impoverished vicar. He had at least conceded to wear a solar topee, though in this North African heat nothing short of an ice block melting on your head did much good. Schmidt had been in shorts, socks and shoes when the Herr Oberst called him, and wasn’t going to apologize for it.

He stuck his head back in the tent a few minutes later. “Kettle’s on, Herr Oberst. And we’ve got a last couple of lemons, but only the powdered milk left in this heat. I don’t think it ever met a cow, be honest.”

“That’s perfectly all right, dear boy,” said the Englishman. “Plain tea is a luxury in itself here.” He was round-faced and dimpled, with a diffident and precious manner that made Schmidt almost certain that he and Colonel Rommel were of the same, ahem, tribe.

“Now,” said Rommel when the orderly had left, “I’m quite sure you’re with British Intelligence. Oh, don’t try to deny it. What other Englishman would have a reason to be out here, feigning to be lost and trying to chat up my signalman – who, by the way, is a mute -- in almost flawless German? You’re no sort of a military man.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Though I will admit it was – some time ago.”

“Then you know how soldiers feel about spies – it was quite reckless of you. Don’t worry – you’re safe. I used to loathe spies myself until I had to be one – our countries call on us, and we have little choice. Still, I simply cannot allow you to stay here gathering information that might harm my brother or any of our men, but I will escort you safely back behind the British lines. We have an arrangement.”

“Ah. I have – I am familiar with those types of arrangements, but it surprises me that you have one with the British.”

“Why ever shouldn’t we? You must have seen enough of my camp to know that my men would be hopeless in combat. Gracious, even Udo is out of practice, and all his family served. No, we repair the vehicles and dig the graves – a needed service in wartime, alas. But the Eighth Army knows not to fire on us, and we treat them with – ah – distant courtesy.”

“It seems very civilized."

"Oh, Udo – thank you, my dear. Is there sugar?”

“Only date sugar. Sorry, mein herr.”

“Well, it will have to do. Now do tell me, Herr Fell – how long have you been out of the country? I’m perishing for news of the Royal Family – nothing you shouldn’t tell me, but what were they wearing at Ascot this year? We hear nothing out here.”

“You quite amaze me, Colonel Rommel.”

“I shouldn’t. Our countries are friends, Herr Fell – or were, before that – may I say it – wretched little man in the Chancellery drummed up so much war-fury. You’ll see this pot is Royal Doulton – my favourite was broken, but my brother kindly got this on the black market -- well, so I assume. I never ask him questions. And I’ve spent such happy times in your homeland – “

"lt is a terrible shame that --we should be at enmity.”

“Yes, I had some close – well, there were some lovely moments with English – people – before – ah, my fiance.”

“Your fiance! So stressful in wartime, to be separated from one you care for. Do you have her picture?”

“Oh, not she, Herr Fell -- I sense you understand? -- and were you to stay till tomorrow -- which is quite impossible -- I should introduce you.”

The Colonel reached into his breast pocket and opened a small locket on an old-gold chain, containing a vignette photograph of a ruggedly handsome, dark-haired man in Luftwaffe uniform, with a devilish smile and the premature crow’s-feet of someone who spends his days looking into unfiltered sun.

“My Rosen – Leutnant Kavalier. A bomber pilot, very dashing – though a bit of a reckless boy with no manners or graces. But we cannot rule where our hearts are given, can we?”

The Colonel carefully replaced the locket in his impossibly crisp uniform shirt, twitching aside a scarf of almost transparent peach-colored silk to do so.

“I understand,” said Fell. “I’m – quite fond myself of someone like that – though I can’t think entirely what to do about it. It’s very difficult, with our being on – opposite sides, you see.”

“Ah, that_ is_ difficult. German? Oh, Udo, thank you.”

“Will there be anything else, Herr Oberst?”

“Udo, you’re becoming positively correct in your manner. Are you feverish?”

“Nah, mein herr. Best foot forward.”

“An irreplaceable boy,” said the Colonel as his orderly retreated. “So – you intrigue me, Herr Fell – is this one of our officers you mean? It does change the complexion of things.”

“No, it’s – even more complicated than that. So I don’t truly know how to speak.” The date sugar had stuck together and had to be worried off the irregular clump with the edge of a spoon; the Colonel’s were silver, though it was hard to keep them properly polished.

“Does – he seem to return the feeling?”

“Well – he’s been a constant friend. He’s plucked me out of some awful fixes. Even when it was – to do with my intelligence work, and even after we'd had the most frightful quarrels.”

“My dear, that does sound like love.” The Colonel’s eyes grew a little distant. “My Rosen once saved me from a British fighter that was trying to shoot me out of the sky – it’s so dreadful that this war puts us in the position of trading life for life.”

“If I can get the information I want it may save lives on both sides.”

“But you would say that, wouldn’t you? No, Mr. Fell – I simply must send you back to your countrymen at the earliest practical moment. Udo, lieber, what’s this?”

“Kruger had some a those little cakes he gets from the British cook in exchange for sausages. I traded some salt I got from the French irregulars last week. Thought you’d like it.”

“You’re a jewel, Udo. Could you just open up a few more of these tent flaps? It’s been so stifling, but I think we’re feeling the ghost of a breeze.”

“These are lovely,” said Fell. “I didn’t even know we had them. I must speak to the cook. – It’s remarkable, you know, I had no idea what to expect, and here we are, practically _fraternising._ You’re not at all like – some others I’ve met on your side.”

“Well, it can be such an error to start thinking in terms of _sides_. Families, or countrymen, can require things of you that you simply bar – “

“Yes – I’ve a few memories.”

“And you have to walk a tightrope between orders from people you don’t respect, and keeping your conscience and your men safe. …And in aid of safety, Herr Fell, as soon as the light starts to fall we can give you a burnous to make you a bit less conspicuous and escort you back to the British lines.”

“Well – it’s very kind of you. I could probably make my way back on my own, but I’ve been scolded by my superiors for using too many – ah, extraordinary measures in the course of my work. And it was very careless of me to get captured. Though your men were ever so courteous about it.”

“Well, you were never in danger. My men understand the rules. Though Leutnant Winzig bridles at times, but I think he was swept away by your perfectly Aryan colouring.”

“Oh my – is he – ?”

“Not a bit of it. He’s a political romantic.”

“He’s a human swastika,” grouched the orderly, tying back the last of the flaps to let in the faltering excuse for a breeze that was the best Tunisia had to offer at this time of year.

“Udo, darling! Kjars is doing his best. You know how difficult his family are.”

“C’d write a book about difficult families,” said the banty little orderly, and slouched off.

“So could we all, don’t you think?” said the Colonel, looking after him fondly. “I adore my brother, but – -oh, it is a trial sometimes being related to the hero of Africa. People will try to get at him through me, or _to _him through me, enemies and idolaters alike. And he absolutely has no care for his own well being. I could simply _shake_ him sometimes.”

“Yes – his name is legend. Even some of our men have those portraits of him on pasteboard cards. I’m surprised I had never heard of you till I was -- ah -- needed here.”

“Well, I’m not a hero, dear.”

“I rather think you are, of a different kind. Here is this camp, an oasis of quiet resistance to – the inhumanity around us. And you don’t conceal who you are. I know how your country’s treated – ah – “

“People like us? 175ers?” Rommel alluded to Germany’s statute prohibiting relations between men, once punishable by two years’ penal servitude, now by – well, far worse.

“That calls for courage. And – you’ve spoken your love bravely. I wish I could as much.”

“Ah, dear Rosen quite took me by storm. Of course it’s more difficult when both – parties are reticent. But dear, you can’t wait forever. Life is fleeting.”

An odd smile came and went on Fell’s lips at that. Rommel felt strangely moved, and reached to briefly press his hand – like his own, immaculate and soft even in the middle of the arid, fly-ridden North African desert.

“Promise me you’ll speak while you can. Every bit of kindness and beauty we can salvage in this world is a victory, dear.”

Fell’s gaze dropped, and for a moment he held the Colonel’s hand between both of his own. Rommel had the oddest feeling, as if a protective blessing had been spun around him. After a moment it faded, and he broke the touch.

“Now my dear – you haven’t told me yet about Ascot. Or the ceremonies on Garter Day. Tell me stories while we wait for twilight. I do so miss my days there. Let me see if Udo can stretch to more tea.”

* * *

“Here we are. Gefreiter Waldstein here has a dark lantern, and will take you along the safe road. Everyone knows not to fire on anyone coming down that way.”

“You have been too kind, Colonel Rommel.”

“I’ve done nothing I wouldn’t do for anyone in danger. But you must promise to stay behind the British lines after this. That’s all there is for it. I won’t always be around to rescue you.”

“Yes – I’ve been told that before.”

“So you’re a bit of a hero as well, Herr Fell. Or you wouldn’t need rescuing so often.”

“Perhaps I’m just a bit of a duffer. We – British, you know, we always muddle through.”

“Here’s a burnous. It’s dark enough now. Safe journey.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish we could have met in peacetime.”

“Perhaps we shall.”

“And just in that one matter – be a little braver. You know what I mean.”

Fell took his hand again, formally. “And you? Perhaps be a little more careful. There aren’t enough mortals like you.” It seemed an odd phrasing, but then his German was only _almost_ flawless.

“Good night, Herr Fell.”

“Good night, Colonel.”

The twilight swallowed up the two figures as they made their way down the escarpment.

"I don't believe for a second that he's a 'duffer,' Udo, do you?" said the Colonel quietly. "He seemed far too clever for that. We'll never know what he was doing here, but that doesn't change one's obligation to do the decent thing."

“He’s like you, Herr Oberst,” said Udo in an unexpectedly soft voice. “Perfectly ladylike and perfectly good. I hope he’s all right.”

“Goodness, Udo -- whatever's come over you? You seem quite smitten. My dear, none of us are perfect. We’re just all doing the best we can.”

“In that case, I hope the Herr Oberst won’t be angry about what happened to his – “

“Oh dear, Udo. What have you done now?”

They made their way up the last slope of the cliffside back to the camp.

_finis_

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't know what Aziraphale was doing in Tunisia, either. But one suspects that whatever assignment he got from his Head Office, he embroidered on it. There were certainly enough blessings needed in a war zone.
> 
> Aziraphale would have used the German word _sterbliche_ \-- those who can die -- which has been used to describe humankind, but would be somewhat quaint in these circumstances.
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr @CopperPlateBeech


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